Queen of the Snakes
by don'tblameme33
Summary: Hermione is, at heart, a Slytherin. As she goes to Hogwarts, she meets Draco Malfoy, who rejects her when he finds out she's Muggleborn. Stung, she strikes back at him. Both are powerful. Both know how to go about it. In the end, who will rule Slytherin?
1. Chapter 1  Letter from Hogwarts

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. Obviously.

**AN: I know it starts off slow, and it will be for the first couple of chapters, but it does get better.**

Chapter 1 - Letter from Hogwarts 

Hermione Granger wasn't sure when she realised that she didn't fit in with the other children at school. It just seemed to be something she always knew.

Everyone else could sense it, a dark kind of energy surrounding her, protecting her. It kept people away from her. She was bullied at first, but soon they left her alone. If asked why, her would-be tormentors wouldn't be able to give an answer. It was just something that made sense to them. _'Don't mess with that Granger girl'_, they told people. Even parents didn't want their children hanging around with her.

But Hermione wasn't aware of any of this. She mever knew the reason why nobody talked to her, why they refused to play with her, or to be her partner when they needed to pair up at school. She was okay with that though. She could do the work by herself; she was clever enough.

And then the letter came. She wasn't at school that day, she was in bed with a bad cold. Her parents both had to work. They couldn't take time off for their daughter, not when there were teeth to be saved. She had to make do with a phone by her bed and access to the fridge for the nest twelve hours. It wasn't anything new to her, being on her own in her house. Often she had faked illness, if only to avoid going out. Nobody liked her, she reasoned, so why should she make an effort. Why should she even look at them, if they wouldn't look at her?

She had been sleeping for the past three hours, when the loud bang of the letterbox shot through the whole house. It woke her in an instant. Was this just one of those cruel jokes that some of the children occasionally played? She didn't even want to think about the taunts that some people prepared for her. That had been ages ago, of course, before they had been scared away.

The sound of wings past her window snapped her out of her reverie. Something was going on, had been going on for far too long, and it was time to find out what it was.

She slipped out from under the thick white duvet, and rose shakily to her feet. Illness had taken a lot of energy from her, and it was all she could do to stay upright. So she took a deep breath, then another, then another. Soon she felt a lot better. Well enough to walk, at least.

Yet with every step she took, she felt a little better than before. She made it out of her attic bedroom, and halfway down the stairs, without any problems whatsoever. In fact, she was almost normal again. Only a trace of the cold remained now.

On the landing, she looked across to her parents' bedroom. The door was left completely ajar, the yellow wallpaper standing out like sunshine penetrating the dark grey clouds of the hallway. A thought occured to her, but she wouldn't let it form. _'Not now,' _she told herself. _'Not yet.' _Feeling slightly frightened by what she had considered doing, she scurried downstairs, almost slipping on the mat outside the front door.

As she caught herself on the smooth wooden bannister, she looked down to see what she'd nearly fallen on. A parchment envelope lay innocently underneath one of her feet, sealed with red wax and a symbol that she didn't recognise. The postman never delivered this late, she realised. It must be pretty important. For her parents, probably. She sat down heavily on the bottom step and, with shaking hands, picked up the envelope and turned it over. It was for her.

Hermione's heart nearly stopped. Whoever had written this knew exactly where she was; in fact it read the following:

**Hermione Jean Granger, **

**The bedroom in the attic,**

**14 Snakehead Grove**

**Kensington**

**London**

**LN3 RTS**

That was it. That was her house, her _bedroom_, displayed on fresh parchment in scrawling green ink. How could they know where she was? Whoever _they _were. She was sure, certain, that it couldn't be anybody her own age. No one knew that her bedroom was in the attic, no one knew that there even _was _a bedroom in the attic of the house. Before they had come along, two months ago, nobody had lived in the house for years. They had moved house. Why couldn't she have moved school? Not be known as the freak with the creepy house and no friends?

The envelope was still in her hands. There didn't feel to be much inside it, maybe a letter? Whatever it was, it was perfect timing. Her parents, always a little too protective for her liking, they wouldn't have let her read it. They would have opened it before she did, checked through it, and told her everything they thought she needed to know before burning it in the large fireplace in the living room. For the moment, they were gone, and they would be for the next few hours. She had all the time in the world.

For now, anyway. She slipped her bony fingers underneath the flap, and pulled it open. The wax clearly wasn't strong, or it was hastily done, either way it came away with only a mere trace of resistance. Out of it came a letter, and two smaller squares. All of it parchment.

First, she read the letter through. And then again. What it said made no sense to her.

**HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY**

_**Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore**_

_**(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)**_

_**Dear Miss Granger,**_

_**We are pleased to inform you that you have a place at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.**_

_**Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July.**_

_**Yours sincerely,**_

_**Minerva McGonagall**_

_**Deputy Headmistress**_

But what did it all mean? Hermione had no idea. And being Hermione, she had to find out. The logical side of her kicked in. She looked at it, analysing every bit of it, from the colours to the words.

The handwriting was that of an adult, she would bet all of her money on it. It flowed too smoothly, joined too perfectly, yet was rushed as well. She would estimate someone who was middle aged at least. That handwriting had to have years of practice behind it.

And the words. It was too advanced to be anybody of her own age, and yet again she would guess middle aged, possibly older. It was written as though the reciever were expected to know what the letter was meaning. Surely it had to have some hidden meaning. She'd never heard of this 'Hogwarts'. A school for witches and wizards? Nonsense, pure nonsense! And yet...

For all her life, she had felt that she didn't fit in. It wasn't that she felt better than her peers, just... How could she put it? More powerful? Yes, that sounded right. But in what way? Magic?...

She shook her head to clear it of her crazy thoughts. No, that was nonsense, she wasn't magic, there _was _no such thing as magic! She had to go upstairs, now. Before she started to believe it was true.

Her head pounded as she ran upstairs. That made her think. She had been ill, now she was better? How was that possible? She knew full well that occasionally people were miraculously cured of illnesses, but not one as mild as hers, and certainly not _that _quickly. Could that be a symptom of her magical powers? No, no, she needed to stop that. It was ridiculous.

She rushed into her bedroom and fell onto her soft bed. It welcomed her with a marshmallow kiss. She always felt safe in her bed, like nothing would hurt her. It was a comfort to be amongst the pure white sheets, the closest to heaven she'd ever known. Relaxing into her pillows, bathing in the warm light from the sun, she reached across for a book by the side of her bed, the first one that she picked up. It was a collection of Roald Dahl stories. She may have considered herself too advanced for childrens books, but she was still only eleven years old after all.

She breathed a heavy sigh as she opened the book to any random page. Whatever she could find, she would read. But the words she opened it up to, the few words sprawled casually across two pages greeting her like an old friend, they made her drop the book in shock.

**Magic is everywhere if you know where to find it.**

Tears formed in her eyes. She had no magic in her life, she never had any magic. It was boring, meaningless, without that little spark of something which could make it a little more bearable. She had to find that magic herself. Whoever had written that letter, whatever it had meant, she was going to chase the magic that she felt from it. All she needed was an owl.

As she thought those words, an dark shape flew to her window. An owl-shape. Had she summoned it? She didn't know.

The little window she possessed was unlocked, but she had to pull quite hard to get it open. The owl flew into her bedroom and settled itself on one of the hard wooden bedposts, hooting gently. She stretched out a hand tentatively to touch it. It rubbed the side of its head against her hand, then bit her sharply, enough to draw a little blood.

Hermione gasped in pain. The cut throbbed a little as blood pumped itself around her finger, but it wasn't going to kill her. It wouldn't even leave a scar. So she turned her attention to the task at hand. She took a deep breath.

''Okay, um, owl. I don't know your name. I want you to stay here while I write a letter, and then bring it to McWhatever her name is. Understand? Good!'' The owl kept a beady eye on her the whole time it took for her to dash across to her little desk, grab a fistful of crumpled paper, smooth it out and write a hasty note in biro. It looked messy, but it would do, and she was in a hurry. It was four now, her parents would be home soon. Once she had finished, she read over what she had written.

_**Dear McGonagall,**_

_**I am delighted to recieve my place at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. My only problem is that I do not know where to find my school equipment, or indeed, how to find the school itself. Would you be so kind as to enlighten me? I will not be at the address listed on your previous letter, so I trust that you can find me wherever I am. You did know which bedroom in the house was mine, after all!**_

_**Yours faithfully**_

_**Hermione Granger**_

It didn't sound too rude. It was okay to send. But she didn't know what to do with it. She walked over to the owl, who stuck out it's long brown leg, and she understood. A pink ribbon lay on the floor, but she didn't know where from. Even so, she hurriedly tied the note to the owl's leg, then nudged it gently. It understood her immediately.

She closed the window as it flew away, then began to think again. What she had wanted to do earlier, what she had stopped herself from doing, that was in her mind again, only this time she knew she would do it. So she found a much neater, cleaner piece of paper, and began to write again.

_**Dear Mum and Dad...**_

**AN: Thanks for sticking around. Review if you want more!**


	2. Chapter 2 Diagon Alley

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. However, I do own all the books! Does that count? No? Oh...

**AN: Thanks to cptmds and Musicals for the reviews, and for cptmds, dragonsfae and fallfromreality for putting me on Story Alert. However, I do appreciate reviews as well. I don't like updating unless I have a review for the previous chapter, just because if I have a review, I know that people like it enough to take time out to review. But anyway...**

**This is for the people who liked the story. Especially Musicals, who I now owe half a packet of Fruit Pastilles to. It's a long story. Anyway, enjoy! :)**

**Queen of the Snakes**

Chapter 2 - Meeting in Diagon Alley.

She had run away. She couldn't believe she had actually ran away from home. The freedom gave her a headache, but she was too happy to care. She could do what she liked, until the first of September, anyway. Because the reply owl had come for her, a week ago.

It was amazing how fast it had arrived. Only ten days ago, she was a lonely girl, who had no thought about what she could do with her life. Now she was a witch, on her way to school, where she could have a nice fresh start away from people who hated her, just because they could sense that she was magic. _Magic. _It was such a lovely word, one that slipped off the tongue nicely, and made her head spin.

There was no doubt in her mind that magic actually existed. No doubt at all. She had followed the intructions in the last letter, she had found Diagon Alley, she had seen all sorts of wonderful things that she couldn't even have imagined ten days ago. Goblins working in a bank, dragons liver for sale, even a different currency. Galleons, Sickles and Knuts. They were strange, something like twenty-seven Knuts to a Sickle, fourteen Sickles to a Galleon. That sounded right. Or maybe it was the other way round? She couldn't remember.

And the spells. There were so many spells that she could see all around her, all very familiar to the average wizard, all so wonderfully strange to her. They could levitate things, and clean the floors, with just one flick of their wands. Now she had a wand, and she was determined to learn how to use it properly, not like in the shop when she had made a vase explode by accident. What was it? Olivanders? She remembered the amazing surge of power travelling right through her when she tried it. It was fantastic, it was spectacular, it was like the fantasies she'd had when she was very young. Except she knew she wasn't dreaming. It was real.

As she walked along Diagon Alley, reliving the past few days in all their glory and eating a triple chocolate fudge ice cream that she'd recently bought, she saw a young boy, of a similar age to hers, complaining to his mother. She couldn't see his face properly, but he was pale. _Very _pale. Even his hair was close to white. He was slightly taller than her, and held himself straight, like he was practised in the art of walking properly. _'One of the rich kids,' _she thought to herself. Six years at a private school had taught her all she needed to know about the rich kids. Like how to recognise them, for instance. And the fact that they were usually the most popular. Held the most power. Had all the right friends.

She needed a fresh start. She needed friends. And if she was right in her thinking, this boy could help her with both. But only if she played her cards right.

Walking towards the bookshop, she strode straight past him, as though he wasn't even there. Just enough so that he had to walk slightly out of his way to allow for her, but she knew he wouldn't. They brushed against each others arms, ever so gently, and they both pretended that it hadn't happened. That was what she thought. Arrogant. Just like her.

A witch with filthy robes stopped her in the middle of the street at that point, and held out her palms in the classic begging gesture. She couldn't speak properly, and she seemed fairly old, sixty at least, and Hermione felt something stir in her heart. She wanted to bring this poor woman with her to the Leaky Cauldron, and buy her a meal. But she could feel the boy's eyes on her, and knew what he would probably think of beggars. So she dug in her pockets for a Knut, and threw it at the woman then walked away with her head held high, not looking back to even see if the old woman had the coin.

The bookshop was nearly empty. Very few books remained on the shelves, certainly none of the ones on her book list. But that was okay. She already had all of her books, packed up in a little parcel under her bed in the room in the Leaky Cauldron. She just needed a cover.

''Can I help you?'' The voice came from behind her, and she spun around, startled. A short frumpy man with a bad bow tie was staring at her, clearly having been in the process of putting a book back on the shelf. Now he was simply standing on a wooden box, reaching up to one of the higher shelves, holding a thick book loosely in his left hand. She shook her head slightly, her frizzy hair falling from the ear which she normally tucked it behind. The right ear.

He studied her up and down for a minute or so, making her feel very uneasy. Eventually he pointed to her left hand.

''We don't allow ice creams in the shop,'' he said quickly. She stared at it. How had she forgotten about the ice cream? Was she carrying it when she had 'accidentally' bumped into the boy? She must have been! Oh, that was stupid! He would think she was just a little girl, now she had to prove to him once and for all that she wasn't.

''Oh. Right.'' She wasn't in the mood to be polite. But she would follow rules, even just so that she wasn't kicked out. So she pushed the heavy red door open, and stepped outside again. The sun had gone in whilst she was in the shop, replaced by heavy grey clouds which certainly didn't look cheerful. The woman who had asked her for money was still in the street, wrapped tight in her gruby green robes, clutching the Knut tightly to her bosom like it was made of solid gold. Maybe she didn't get much money? Oh dear, had she made a mistake? A little girl who ate ice cream and indulged beggars? Would he pay attention to her now?

But the boy wasn't around to see her any more. She could find him later if she wanted. Now, she had something else she wanted to do. Hesitantly, she paced over to the beggar, who turned her head towards the little girl who had been so kind. She looked miserable and wretched, and maybe this was the cause of the knot in her stomach.

Hermione held out her ice cream, barely eaten, and asked quietly whether she wanted the ice cream. The change in the woman's expression was instantaneous. Relief washed away all the despair that she would have seen in the woman's eyes. She snatched it up, and began shoving it in her mouth, teeth working even though they weren't needed to devour it. Suddenly she paused, remembering her manners which would never desert her.

''Thank you child, thank you!'' she whispered hoarsly. Hermione was taken aback. She thought that she couldn't speak! But she realised how narrow-minded that thought was. She was in a world of magic now, she couldn't make assumptions. She needed to be aware. And at that moment, she became aware of the pale boy watching her.

She didn't have to look up to see the look of scorn on his face. It was just there, as much a part of him as her wonky teeth were a part of her. He was leaning against a filthy wall, with a sign above his head reading: Knockturn Alley. She could see it all, without looking up. But then again, she'd always been good at seeing things out of the corner of her eye.

What was he doing now? He was turning away! Going down into Knockturn Alley, whatever that was. A woman walked with him, clearly very rich, dressed in the finest clothes. An emerald cape, which swished around her legs as she moved covered her body, but Hermione could tell just from looking at it that it must have cost a fortune. The sort of family which would buy the best clothes. That was what she needed.

His mother, or at least who she presumed was his mother, grabbed him by the wrist, pulling him quickly away from the crowd which had formed around her. Damnit! Now she'd lost him again. She had to find him!

So, abandoning the woman to a tide of desperate customers, she pushed her way through the croud, shoving a lot of people out of her way as she did so. There were crys, and yells of protest coming from behind her, but to her all that mattered was talking with the boy. Finding out his name. Gaining his trust. She follow him to the ends of the Earth if she had to.

The entrance to Knockturn Alley was dark. Very dark. And damp too, she realised. Very cold. The sort of place that wasn't very well looked after. The sign itself was a nasty shade of green, something she hadn't noticed from far away. Now, where was the boy?

She treaded carefully down the wonky stone stairs, but slipped half way down and fell heavily on her ankle. She yelped in pain. She hadn't broken it had she? Oh no, she couldn't have broken it? Even if she sprained it, she wouldn't be able to walk well. But no, as she stood up slowly and brushed the dirt from her shabby clothes, she realised it was only twisted. That was okay, all she had to do was walk it off. As long as the boy hadn't seen. And he hadn't! He couldn't have! He was nowhere in sight, and she suspected that if he really had seen, he would be hanging around to mock her.

Above her head, the saturated clouds let a drop spill from their insides, then another, then another. Soon it was pouring with rain, soaking her from head to tow. That wasn't good news; she would end up looking like a half drowned cat. And she was trying to impress the boy, not scare him off! She wiped a wet strand off hair from her forehead, and walked to a turning point, choosing the left hand side for no reason that she could fathom.

However, after passing a few dingy, ominous looking shops, she caught sight of a flash of white and green. It was him, it had to be. And this time he was alone. Walking into a place full of creepy items which she barely noticed. She had to follow him inside. Casually.

After a minute or so of waiting in the rain, it was time for her to wander in. The rain had reached it's peak by now, it would be impossible for it to get heavier. At least that's what she was hoping.

As she pushed the door open carefully, a musty smell hit her, and she realised that the shop wasn't visited often. Of course, the dust on the windows should have shown her that. Or the rotting sign. Borgin and Burkes, it read in fading letters, barely legible.

He was there. Hidden behind a large stack of books bound in black leather, but she could hear his voice, slow and drawling, like he was bored. Maybe he was always bored?

But she had to act cool. She had to be nonchalant. She had to pretend he was barely there. _'If that's even possible' _the annoying voice in her head told her. The voice that always came out when she needed confidence most, just to put her down. It was a good job that she'd had so much practice ignoring it.

In the right hand corner of the shop was a large mirror, and it was this that she chose to walk towards. As she started walking, she began to make out the words the boy was saying.

''...it's not good enough! My father said...''

Another voice joined in.

''I'm sorry, Master Malfoy, I...''

Malfoy? That was the boy's name? The family name, anyway. Hopefully they knew she was there, although she doubted it greatly. Years of being in the background made it hard for her to find herself anywhere else. Even if they knew she was there, they wouldn't pay her any attention. Act like she belonged, that was what she needed to do, create a different reason for why they hadn't noticed her. But the conversation was continuing, and she couldn't resist walking closer to hear it better.

''No, it isn't! You said that you could do it, you promised! How can I go to Hogwarts without my own broom? And there's no way I'm riding one of the tatty old school ones! I...''

''But Master Malfoy, I need one more day. Just one more. It'll be ready by then.''

''It'd better be. Else...'' He stopped. It was too late. She hadn't realised that her reflection was visible to him in the dusty old mirror. And he could see her listening in intently. She had to do something, the first thing that came to her. She stepped forwards.

''Scuse me, where are the daggers?'' It was a random question but one that she hoped would work. It seemed to, anyway. The man whom the boy had been arguing with pointed towards the wall straight in front of them, with the words ''Over there'' to accompany. She nodded and strode towards where she had been told they would be, completely ignoring the 'Malfoy' boy. She had briefly caught a glimpse of his face, narrow and bony as it was. Like a horse, she thought.

The man, now the man was _really _horse-like. His nose was very long, and about the same width from top to end. He had an even longer face, cheeks sliding out flatly to his ears, which clung tightly to the side of his head, like they were afraid of falling off. He stood slightly taller than the boy, but it was clear to Hermione who was in control.

There they were, the daggers. On the very top shelf, far too high for her to reach. Good job she'd been practising magic in secret, every night before she went to sleep. She drew out her wand, getting the strange feeling that the boy was watching her, and did the movements that she'd spent an hour getting right two nights ago. Swish and flick...

''Wingardium Leviosa,'' she hissed, selecting the most ornate, decorated one of the lot. It had a perfectly shaped ruby on each side of the handle, and the hilt was picked out with emeralds. The whole thing was silver, she thought, and the handle had a carefully carved snake wrapping around it. It was so close to her hand now, her yew wand pointing at it still, and reached out a hand to pluck it from the air.

''Nice choice,'' a loud voice behind her said, making her jump so much she lost control of the magic and dropped it. It grazed her palm, which she closed instinctively, keeping a hold on it. The dagger was incredibly sharp, cutting into her by just touching her, and she realised that maybe it would be useful after all.

She spun around with fire in her eyes, and stared into the face of the boy she'd been following all morning. She'd known it was him before she turned round, his voice was now imprinted in her mind forever.

He looked down at her hand. She looked down too, and saw that a bead of blood was forming at the edge of her hand. Now it had fallen, replaced by another. She took the dagger gingerly by the handle, and opened her palm slowly. Blood was pooling in the slight indent caused by her cupped hand. She didn't really feel the pain, too busy with thinking about what she was going to do next. Her next move. So she merely arched one eyebrow, and closed her hand, letting the precious ruby liquid fall from between the gaps of her fingers.

The boy snatched the dagger from her grasp, being careful of his fingers, and looked up at her, his expression unreadable.

''Hogwarts too?'' he asked her casually. She nodded, keeping her head high and her eyes narrowed. He made a strange noise in his throat, like he was trying to clear it without seeming to.

''What house will you be in? I'll be in Slytherin, my whole family was. What about you?'' He seemed quite proud of the fact that his whole family had been in Slytherin, something that Hermione could understand completely. Her entire family, as far back as they could trace, were dentists, and she used to be so deperate to join them. Until she'd learnt about the world she really belonged to.

The question needed little thought. She knew about the different houses, the different personalities for each one. It wasn't something she'd pondered over before, but as the boy stated his preference, she realised that she was in fact a very similar type of person. With one major difference.

''Same,'' she sighed, as though she'd been through the same conversation with a dozen different people. His eyes narrowed slightly.

''Who were your parents?'' The question was of little importance. It was the answer he wanted. Hermione remembered the one thing which would set them apart forever, and cursed her parents for. He wanted her to be a 'pure blood', or to put it another way, for her parents to have been magic as well. Natural born Slytherins had no respect for Muggle-borns or, as they liked to call them, 'mudbloods'. Listening in to a conversation next door to her rented room in the Leaky Cauldron had taught her all of that.

But what could she do? If he knew that she was nothing more than a filthy mudblood, he would lose all respect for her forever. So she did what she was best at. She lied.

''Nothing special. Just... ordinary.'' She twisted her face as she said the last word as though it pained her. Which she realised it did.

''Were they...'' The boy began to speak again, but she knew what he wanted to know. Or she could guess.

''Muggle lovers? Yeah. Weirdos.''

He nodded his head. Had she appeased him? Was he okay with her? She couldn't quite tell.

''I don't understand why so many of them are into riff-raff like that. It's just sickening, isn't it?'' he spat out viciously. Hermione made a noise of agreement.

''Try living with it!'' She rolled her eyes to accompany her words. He made a slight noise, something like a laugh, and she relaxed. He held out his hand regally.

''Draco Malfoy,'' he declared, and her heart skipped a beat. _She had his name!_

''Hermione Granger,'' she replied, offering her own hand. They shook hands firmly. ''And I believe you have my dagger.'' He handed it back to her carefully. She walked away towards the counter at the far end of the shop, not looking back at Draco. He hadn't moved, or she would have heard his footsteps.

The man who looked like a horse was behind the counter, polishing a necklace made of opals with his wand. He looked up as Hermione approached, but didn't put the necklace down. She laid her choice on the wood, then began picking at one of her nails unconcernedly.

Finally, he put both the items down, being careful not to touch the necklace, something which Hermione found slightly odd. He studied the dagger for a second, then picked it up.

''Give me your hand,'' he said sharply, not looking up. She displayed her bleeding palm. He muttered a few words which she didn't understand, and the cut healed itself. She almost gasped as she felt the skin pulling together, and the warm tingling feeling she felt. Wandless magic! He must be more powerful than she thought.

The man studied the dagger for a few seconds more, then set it down and glared at her with a new look in his eyes.

''What if I don't sell to children?'' He spoke harshly, but she thought she detected a hint of fear in his voice. She looked at him straight in the eye, and he recoiled a little. She didn't know, she had never known, but there was a hard gleam which never left her eyes, which made people fear her.

''You'll sell to me,'' she said coldly. He nodded, but thought of something else to try to disuade her from buying the dagger.

''It's expensive,'' he tried. She merely shrugged. He sighed, and found a slim velvet box under the counter for her to store it in. She watched him like a hawk as he packed it away, then held out his hand.

''Twenty-seven Galleons, please.'' But she didn't have that much money on her.

''Five,'' she demanded. The man had no power to resist her, even if he attempted to at first.

''I can't let it go for that, that's robbery! I'd be just as well _giving _it away!'' Hermione raised both eyebrows, something that she was often in the habit of doing.

''Then why don't you?'' Eventually he sighed.

''Fine, _fine! _Five Galleons.''

She dug in her pocket, threw a five Galleons and a Sickle on the counter, grabbed the box and strolled out of the shop, not even glancing at Draco Malfoy who had stayed to watch the whole scene.

_'Step one,' _she thought, _'complete.'_

**AN: I like reviews. Just to know what you think of it. Does it work?**

**And if you've read all the way to here, I'd like to say thank you. You're the ones I write for! ;)**


	3. Chapter 3 On the train

**Queen of the Snakes**

Chapter 3 - On the train

In front of her was a trolley. A trolley filled with all kinds of snacks and sweet treats which her parents would _never _normally let her eat. But they weren't there, were they? She had enough money, saved up over the years and changed into wizard curerency. She could buy whatever she wanted.

''Every-flavour-beans, five liquorice wands and... three chocolate frogs,'' Hermione said to the plump, grey haired lady who had been pushing the trolley. She smiled, but Hermione didn't smile back.

''Six Sickles please,'' she chirped happily, and held out her hand for the money. Hermione gave her six silver coins, then watched suspiciously as the woman trotted along to the next carriage. She threw herself back onto the seat behind her, ripped open the packet of jelly beans, and tossed one up into the air, catching it in her mouth easily, a trick she had often practised when alone. Immediately she spat it back out onto the floor. It had an acrid, _green _taste which reminded her of Christmas; nevertheless it was the worst thing about Christmas. Just her luck that the first wizard sweet she would eat would taste of sprouts. That couldn't be a good sign, could it?

She closed her eyes, and began to hum to herself. It was so boring, having nobody to talk to when she thought maybe, just maybe, she would have a friend by this point. But there was still that boy...

Draco Malfoy, that was his name. He would be on this train, wouldn't he? Maybe she could find him, and...

Finding him. All she had to do was find him, and she could talk to him. Be his friend. She opened her eyes again, wincing at the light from the sun which had just appeared from behind a large grey cloud. It looked like it was about to rain; already the pale star was fading behind the black sky.

A bang echoed through the Hogwarts Express. It had come from a fairly long way away, but the sound had carried all the way back to her, almost at the end of the train. There were only four carriages standing between her and the engine at the back. A few seconds later, screams came from much closer than the bang had. She would have to see what was going on.

Cautiously, she pushed the door open and peered aound the edge of it. More bangs. Then a group of people ran straight past her, looking panicky and flustered. Whatever it was, she would have to see it for herself. Nothing was worth disturbing her moment of self pity.

A few young students, not much older than she was, were crowding around something halfway down the train, oohing and aahing the whole time. In the centre, looking proud of themselves, were two identical ginger haired boys, identical wild grins on their identical freckled faces. One of them, the one on the left, held a brightly coloured cylinder in one of his hands, his wand in the other.

Carefully, he raised his wand to the black tip of the cylinder, and Hermione suddenly realised what it was. A firework.

''Agumenti!'' he cried suddenly, then threw it to the opposite end of the train, where it exploded almost instantly, red and gold sparks flying from it as it fizzed and crackled, causing a few more screams from the people in the nearby compartments.

''Ready, Fred?'' the first one shouted over the fresh amount of noise they had caused.

''Ready, George!'' the second yelled, looking happier than she thought it was possible for a person to look. They counted down on their fingers, and the crowd around them went wild with excitement. She was surprised that nobody had come out yet to tell the boys off; they were causing so much noise that it actually hurt her ears. Which was why she was standing completely still in the middle of the aisle and not dashing back into her compartment like everybody else seemed to be doing.

One of the twins caught her staring at them, and smiled evilly. She rolled her eyes, and began to walk towards them, checking through every glass door that Draco Malfoy wasn't in there. After a while, she noticed that a few of the people had changed into their robes. Most of them, like her, were first years, and so had no house colours to mark them out as different. But a few of the older students sported red, yellow, sometimes blue decoration. Griffindor, Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw. She was glad that she had taken the time to read 'Hogwarts: A History' before she had begun. She needed all the help she could get if she wanted to fit in. But where were the green robes, the house which she truly belonged in, which was also the home of the boy she was searching for? They couldn't bein the ones she'd already checked in; they would never mix themselves with another house. She was already close to the fireworks exploding group, but she hoped that she wouldn't have to pass through the group; most of them were Griffindors, with whom she hoped she wouldn't have to become familiar with.

As she paced, trying to find someone, anyone who she would be happy with, a short dark haired boy came running from the end of the train, looking very red in the face. He reached the freckled twins, and the whole train went quiet very quickly. He had tears in his eyes as he spoke shakily.

''Have you seen my toad?'' he asked, on the verge of crying. The twins looked at each other, then looked at the boy who was hopping from one foot to the other restlessly.

''What does he look like?'' the first one, George, asked kindly. He paused for a second, thinking hard, then replied hesitantly.

''Erm... he's brown, and knobbly, and erm... He's got big bulging eyes, and erm...''

The other twin, Fred, thought for a second.

''No, I don't think we've seen him, have we, George?''

''No, we haven't, Fred,'' the first replied.

''Sorry!'' they said in unison.

''Hey, what's your name?'' said George curiously.

''N-Neville Lo-Longbottom,'' he said nervously. Hermione stifled a laugh, and continued on her way, acting like she hadn't been listening to the whole conversation.

She peered in the next compartment. Red and yellow screamed out at her as the students, most of whom she suspected were in their final year, moved about in casual conversation, most of them looking more than a little bored. A tap on her shoulder made her spin around angrily; her temper was beginning to wear a little thin. The boy, Neville, was looking up at her anxiously.

''Ex-excuse me,'' he stammered. ''Please could you help me find my toad?'' She stared at him, feeling tempted for a fleeting second. But she remembered what she was trying to do, and she tossed her head back.

''Oh, go and find your own fucking toad!'' she snapped, and pushed her way through the crowd. By now, the twins had forgotten about their fireworks and were busy with a game of snap. She jumped a little as something exploded behind her, but quickly regained her composure as she headed on to find somebody to talk to. Anybody. She didn't even care anymore, so long as they would accept her company and were Slytherins.

Finally, as the sun came out again, much lower in the sky than before, as she came to the very last carriage at the front of the train, she found the boy she'd been looking for. He was talking quietly with two other boys, one fairly tall, one fairly short, both very stocky. She was so impatient, she didn't even bother to knock at the door.

All three of them turned their heads towards her. She stared back at them expressionlessly.

''This seat taken?'' she asked calmly, nodding her head to the seat closest to her. The boy narrowed his eyes at her, but shook his head. She took this as her cue to sit down.

''Draco, isn't it?'' she said calmly, as she busied herself with opening a liquorice wand. He nodded again, she noticed out of the corner of her eye, a nod that didn't move his white-blonde hair one inch. Maybe he had too much gel in his hair.

''And you're... Hermione?'' At least he'd remembered her name. ''This is Crabbe,'' he continued, nodding at the more squat of the two boys, ''and Goyle.'' Hermione saw that the boys seemed awkward, unsure of themselves. She supposed that this boy, Draco Malfoy, whoever he was, must be pretty powerful. It was all too obvious that they regarded him as a leader, somebody to look up to for all of their desicions.

''Right.'' _A man is shown by his treatment of his inferiors_. She thought she remembered her father saying that once, and she could tell that this was the sort of boy who considered most people beneath him. And she should act the same.

''Would you like a chocolate frog?'' she offered politely, but with a little force behind the words. _'Take it!'_

''I'm okay, thank you.'' He clicked his fingers, and motioned to one of the boys to take the proffered sweet. ''You don't mind if Goyle has a frog, do you?'' he drawled.

Hermione shrugged her shoulders. There was no point in being rude for the sake of it. She put her feet up on the seat opposite her, next to Draco, and pulled out a small crossword book and pen from her left hand coat pocket. He stared at it as she flicked through to find an uncompleted puzzle.

''What's that?'' he asked, his voice laden with suspicion. She frowned, and looked at the cover.

''Oh, this,'' she asked casually. ''It's some Muggle thing I picked up from the station. Bit boring, but it passes the time.''

Satisfied with her answer for now, he lay back in his chair and closed his eyes. She continued with her crossword, not even glancing up at him, as the sky outside got steadily darker. He seemed to be asleep. Once, as the shorter of the two boys moved towards him, she was half expecting him to give Draco a massage. But he merely wanted a small bag of chocolates on the seat across from him.

Eventually, when the sun had set completely, and the bushes and trees were no more than passing grey blurs in the distance, Draco opened his eyes.

''The sun's setting. I guess we should get into our robes.'' he said tightly. Then he looked at Hermione. So did his crones. She met the gaze of the blonde boy, and felt herself wanting to blush.

''I'll just find the bathroom,'' she muttered loudly. It certainly wasn't her intention to change in front of three strange boys.

She slipped out as they closed the blinds. She hadn't even realised that she was shaking until she was well out of earshot. He was rich. She could tell by the way he acted like he owned everything, and everyone. It wasn't just a big ego. Maybe, if he was rich, she could befriend him. Or as close as she could get. The rich people were always the ones to hang around with. They were the ones with control.

But she'd forgotten the most important thing. Her robes were still in the first compartment. Maybe it was a good thing, at least she couldn't have left them in the one she'd just walked out of.

She walked quickly towards her compartment, almost falling flat on her face at one point as she accidently stepped on a card left in the middle of the floor which exploded beneath her shoe and took her by surprise.

Hermione's bag was exactly where she had left it, in the left hand corner, closest to the window. She fell upon it with a sigh of relief, feeling the soft leather against her face. It was hard to believe how exhausting the day had been. All she had done was sit down all day, and not talk. Yet her eyes were drooping, and she was close to falling fast asleep on top of her bag, and she didn't think she'd be waking up for a while if she did that.

So, reluctantly, she undid the zipper to her bag, and pulled out a plain black robe. She hoped the she'd soon be adorned with green and silver.

It took only a minute to change, but even that was long enough. As she tucked her plain tie under her thick jumper, the train ground to a halt and she heard the footsteps of 700 children in a hurry. They were indistinguishable from a herd of elephants, Hermione thought with a wry smile on her face.

Carefully she stepped out of the compartment, and noted to her relief that everybody was at the other end of the train, and everything in her immediate area was clear. She padded softly over to the closest door, which was wide open, and peered out into the night, looking at the place in which she would grow for the next seven years. It was magnificent.

**AN: Sorry it's been slow so far. If people are interested in the story, I'll try to update more often. And don't worry, more interesting things will happen.**

**Please review XD**

**If you do, you get an e-apple. You know, to be e-healthy.**


	4. Chapter 4 Journey to Hogwarts

**Queen of the Snakes**

Chapter 4 - Journey to Hogwarts

Hermione stepped into a small, slowly rocking boat with some apprehension, shivering nervously, listening to the cries of ''Firs' years, on the boats. Come on, quick now, yer gonna be late!''

An incredibly large man stood just behind her, pushing her on the back gently. Maybe he thought it was encouraging. But it just unnerved her. He was louder than she ever thought possible for a human. But then again, maybe he wasn't quite human. His hand on her back felt like a dustbin lid pushing her, hard enough for her to almost fall over.

Rubeus Hagrid was his name, and he was the groundskeeper of Hogwarts. How he came to the position, she would never understand; his clumsiness put him at a serious disadvantage when it came to his current task. How on earth could he do... whatever it was that he did?

For the third time that night, Hermione was glad she'd read up on the customs and facts of Hogwarts. Those books she'd bought with the money she'd stolen were hopefully enough for her to pass off as pure-blood, at least until she'd got to the point where nobody cared about her blood status any more.

Draco was sat far away from her, almost at the other end of the lake. She could only just make out the white halo of his head as he moved around, his expression most likely distainful.

In her boat was a tall girl named Tracy. She didn't know anything about the girl; they hadn't spoken yet; but the way she held herself, and looked around with slightly fearful eyes screamed Slytherin. It wasn't that Slytherins were cowards, as this girl most certainly was, but they were reputable for protecting themselves before anybody else. Common sense, Hermione called it. Cowardice, others might say. But Hermione certainly wasn't a coward.

She felt the boat rock a lot more, and turned her attention to two more girls who had climbed onto the boat. Hermione noted that Hagrid barely helped them on; his attention and interest seemed to be taken up with a small scrawny boy standing in front of him.

As was everyone else's. She was sitting in the boat, squashed in with three other girls, who she doubted had even noticed her. The noise which had suffocated her was dwindling down to silence once people caught a glimpse of the boy. They stared at him as though he was an alien, in awe, treasuring that moment in their hearts. It was a little unsettling. She supposed he was famous or something like that. Either that or he had three heads.

Then the whispering started. Two words which set a chill to Hermione's heart, and made her feel a little dizzy. They bounced around like an echo, like a person playing catch with a wall.

'Harry Potter.'

_'Harry Potter.'_

Harry Potter? Harry Potter was here at Hogwarts? Hermione felt a thrill just hearing the name, though she wasn't sure why. The most famous person in the whole of wizarding history, the _Boy who Lived_, he was standing a few metres from her. As the large man, Hagrid, moved, she saw him properly for the first time. Even in the dozen books she had read about him, there had never been a picture of him at his current age. She doubted that most of the Wizarding World even knew what he looked like now. _Most_ of the wizarding world.

He was incredibly small; a head shorter than herself and a hell of a lot skinnier. His wild black hair fell casually over one eye, in an emo style, but Hermione wasn't stupid. He was as far removed from emos as she now was from Muggles.

And through his hair she could see his startled green eyes, which almost glowed, so bright were their colour. They flickered nevously from one person to the next, full of confusion, and a heavy sadness which didn't suit his age. She shivered slightly when they rested on her, but it was only for a couple of seconds. He was older than his years, and it unnerved her.

Eventually he stepped into the last empty boat with a gangly ginger kid, and a plump dark haired boy who looked starstruck.

Well she supposed that everybody looked like that.

Finally, as a small girl with glasses got in the boat with Harry Potter, they set off sailing towards a grand castle glowing yellow, shining out onto the lake like the sun hadn't yet set. It was ten times bigger than Hermione's old school, and much much older. Once she had been to a castle with her parents, somewhere near Yorkshire, but she couldn't compare the two. Whereas that one was cold, and dull, and too grey, this one was... alive. That was the only word she had to describe it.

In her boat, the tallest girl, Tracy, turned to her and stared curiously for a couple of seconds.

''Hello,'' Hermione said loudly, not liking the way this girl was eying her up one bit. But then her features relaxed into a grin. Hermione stayed tense, watching her every move.

''Hello,'' Tracy replied casually. ''What's your name?''

Hermione knew something clever. Something she relied on to help her through her time at school.

''Hermione Granger. What's yours?'' she said cooly. She hoped Tracy didn't know she knew it already.

''Tracy Macnair,'' was the answer. Hermione paused briefly, and in that time Tracy asked what she prayed everybody would ask.

''Are you related to Hector Dagworth-Granger, by any chance?''

Her flawless plan. Pretend to be related to a well known wizard. She nodded slightly.

''He's my great uncle. On my father's side, of course.'' Of course. She _had_ got the name from her father after all.

''Cool.''

Then the girl to her left, the one who had a face like some sort of dog, turned to her.

''I'm Pansy Parkinson. You recognise _my_ family name now, don't you?'' Hermione remembered reading a list of infamous Death Eaters who went to Azkaban in the 80s. Horatio Parkinson. He'd died in there after a week. But she wasn't going to bring it up with a potential ally.

''I recognise the name, but I'm not sure where from.'' Pansy seemed satisfied with the answer. Next was the final girl in the boat. She was wider than she was tall, but it appeared to be all muscle. There was nothing feminine about her at all. Even her hair was cut a little too short to be good. If it wasn't for the perfume she was wearing, and her high pitched growl, Hermione would genuinely have written her off as a boy.

''Millicent Bulstrode.'' She stuck her hand out, which Hermione took carefully. The girl's palm was sweating, and the skin was hot to touch. It repulsed her.

''So which house will you be in?'' Pansy said, lowering her voice considerably, as the boat nearest them fell quiet, possibly to listen in. There were three girls and one boy there, all very small. Hermione couldn't imagine how somebody her own age could look so small. But she still hadn't answered Pansy's question.

''Slytherin.''

Her answer seemed to satisfy the girls. They leant back, and relaxed.

''You three Slytherin too?'' she asked, feeling a little uneasy.

''Yes.''

''Yeah.''

''...What?''

That was Millicent.

''She said,'' began Tracy patiently, ''You three...''

''I know what she said,'' Millicent retorted.

''Then why did you ask?''

There was a long pause.

''Dunno.''

The black lake they travelled on must have been larger than Hermione thought; either that or time was passing really slowly. Five minutes slipped through the hourglass before anybody said anything else.

''So...'' Pansy started, before realising that she couldn't actually think of anything to say. Hermione stepped in with a question that had been burning a hole in her mind for days.

''Do any of you know Draco Malfoy?''

The three of them gaped at her.

''You mean...'' Tracy said, then licked her lips.

''I've spoken to Draco, yes.''

There was no point in lying to them. If she was going to have friends, she should be honest with them. At least, as honest as she could.

''Cool,'' Tracy gasped eventually, looking vaguly alarmed, but Hermione couldn't for the life of her think why. ''Do your parents know his?''

As Tracy asked this question, the other two leaned in closer, like they were discussing something completely secret and private. Maybe they were.

Hermione was sorely tempted to lie at this point. She wanted to say she had him round for dinner sometimes, and that she'd been round to his house a few times. She wanted them to think they'd grown up together, and knew each other's little secrets, that they were closer than anyone could be with one of their own siblings. But the words wouldn't come. And it wouldn't make sense, especially since he could disapprove any of her words that weren't true.

''I spoke to him when we were in Borgin and Burkes in August.''

''Why were you in Borgin and Burkes?'' Millicent seemed less curious than the rest of them, so the question took her by surprise. She opened her mouth to answer, but saw the people in the next boat watching her carefully.

Pansy leant down into the water very carefully, letting her hand skim the cool surface, then brought it out quickly, splashing the other boat with water. The girls gasped and squealed, as she turned around to give them a sugared smile. They began muttering amongst themselves, occasionally glaring at Hermione's boat. She didn't like that sort of attention from people. So she shrugged at them, and lowered her gaze.

''What?'' she asked, having forgotten the question first put to her.

''Why were you in Borgin and Burkes?'' Millicent repeated, in the same monotone voice she had used in the first place. Hermione paused for a second. She'd gone in because Draco had. She couldn't tell them that. But as she was about to tell them about the dagger she'd bought, Draco's boat came gliding up to them. He swept his eyes over them, and Hermione noted with an air of satisfaction that she was the only one who could hold his gaze for longer than a second.

''Hello, ladies,'' he murmured swavely, but before any of them got the chance to reply, the boat hit a rock and they all swung their heads around to the front in alarm. But it was okay. They'd arrived.

It didn't matter how high up somebody was in the social ladder, how much they'd heard about this school, how high their expectations of this school were, nobody was prepared for the sight of Hogwarts up close, and everybody was wowed by its splendeur.

She'd thought it was big before, but that was nothing compared to how it was up close. The castle was at least twice as big as she'd guessed, and this close to it, Hagrid didn't need the lantern that he'd carried across the lake. The light spilt out of the castle like liquid amber, and the shadows of the students on the lake stretched for miles.

It felt like that, anyway.

''Okay, okay, firs' years, follow me now. I don' want yer getting lost.''

''After you, Hermione muttered to the rest of her boat. She could see Draco waiting until the others got out, and she was willing to do the same if it meant walking next to him. Tracy looked at him, and nodded.

''Come on,'' she said, and the three climbed out of the boat, each making a loud bang as wood crashed into stone.

Slowly, she stepped out, taking care not to bring the boat smashing against the rocks, as so many people were struggling not to do. Draco stepped gracefully out of his boat, talking in a low voice to a pretty girl with a hard expression on her face. She gave a long tinkering laugh, and they walked down together, arm in arm. Strangely, Hermione didn't feel in the least bit jealous. At least she had one more person to try to befriend.

She set off walking slowly, even though she now knew that she wouldn't be walking with Draco. Instead she was talking to a tall Irish boy named Seamus, and a slightly stockier dark coloured boy called Dean. Dean mainly talked about football, which Hermione knew more about than she let on. Seamus, on the other hand, babbled on about Quidditch, a wizard sport played on broomsticks. She knew a little about each, and spoke politely with them, but at the first chance she got, she scurried over to Tracy, who was beckoning her with one finger.

''All righ' everbody,'' Hagrid shouted suddenly, not that he had any need to, ''I wan' yer lined up neat over 'ere, an' no pushing!'' He added the last bit after Draco had forced his way past the dark haired kid who'd been sitting in a boat with Harry Potter, knocking him over. He looked ready to burst into tears.

As he turned his face towards the watching crowd, not bothering to form lines like Hagrid had asked, Hermione realised that it was the same boy form the train, the one who had been searching for his lost toad. She wondered vaguely whether or not he'd found it.

£10 said he hadn't.

All of a sudden, quietness descended on the crowd, like a fog blocking all sound. Hermione couldn't make out what was going on, a major disadvantage of her height. But soon she heard a voice much quieter than Hagrid's, yet held much more authority.

''First years, line up properly, and don't make such a fuss!''

When Hermione stood on her tiptoes, she could just about make out the tip of a jade coloured hat, moving about slightly as the owner looked around the crowd.

It was a woman, probably a reasonable age, definitely taller than she had any right to be. But Hermione couldn't see her face. All around, people were beginning to whisper again, mainly nervous chattering.

''Come along now, we don't want to be late, do we?'' the woman said sharply, and Hermione decided that she didn't like this woman very much. Too acidic for her liking.

The doors in front of them swung open, doors that Hermione didn't even notice until just now, and she caught a glimpse of the back of the woman as she ascended the many steps into the warm interior which Hermione had only even dreamed of.

**AN: If you're reading this, thanks for sticking with the story. If you see any problems with it, or have any ideas that you want to maybe see in here, feel free to tell me in a review or PM me. **

**And thanks to my reviewers, and the people who've put me on story alert and favourite. I love you!**


	5. Chapter 5 Newsflash

Chapter 5 - Newsflash

"Abbott, Hannah!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!" shouted the Hat.

Hermione was standing calmly beside the sandy haired Seamus, barely taking in a single nervous word he spoke. She was focusing on breathing steadily; in, out, in, out. Keeping up a rhythm she'd taught herself to block out the awful feeling of disappointment. _What if she didn't get into Slytherin? What if the hat couldn't look past her tainted blood? What if they sent her back home?_

"Bones, Susan!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

"Are duffers," she whispered in response. Seamus frowned at her, but stopped talking. Panic started to rise in her throat again; she felt ill. Maybe if she was too ill, she'd have to go home.

"Brocklehurst, Mandy!"

"Ravenclaw!" it called, and a swarm of children yelled happily, standing up in excitement. One boy wolf whistled, but was shushed by his peers. Hermione was more able to think now. Of course she'd be in Slytherin, she couldn't possibly be anything else.

"Brown, Lavender!"

And this time, Hermione, made sure to notice the entire process. A bright-faced girl with dirty yellow hair leapt onto the seat, eyes shining and a smile on her face. She scanned the room, before the Hat was placed on her head.

'_Gryffindor_,' she thought, and her thought was mirrored a second later by the Sorting Hat's own cry. The table furthest away from them erupted into applause, and Lavender stumbled her way into a seat.

Hermione watched with approval as her new 'friend', Millicent Bulstrode, was declared as a Slytherin. She was observant enough to spot that most of the people she stood with didn't share her views. One boy near to Harry Potter hissed at her.

The next boy was a Hufflepuff, curly haired, and most likely Muggleborn. Seamus was after him, pushing past a dozen kids to get to his place at the front. It took the Hat at least a minute to decide. What was his surname again? Finnigan? 'F', right next to her in the register.

"Granger, Hermione!"

Her heart nearly stopped. She scolded herself for being so cowardly, that wasn't a trait she gave any merit to.

Walking slowly and deliberately to the hard-looking stool, Hermione took the opportunity to take a look at the teaching staff of Hogwarts. A pale, very nervous looking man wearing a turban sat trembling next to a hook-nosed, greasy haired, sour faced teacher, who stared at her with cold black eyes. Behind them was a vast curtain of pure red.

That was all she got to see. McGonagall, the professor doing the Sorting, gave her a sympathetic smile, possibly taking her slow walk for nervousness, rather than cool curiosity. Given the sharp talking to the first years had witnessed from her before they had entered the Great Hall, Hermione thought that one day she might regret that smile.

She sat down nervously, and Professor McGonagall perched it on top of her head. Immediately a voice started up next to her ear, which she realised only she could hear. It was a magic hat, after all.

"Hmmm… interesting."

"What's interesting?" she asked in her head.

"You," it began, and she jumped. Looking at the half-crowd before her, she picked out Draco. He was watching her more carefully than he knew, eyes narrowed suspiciously.

"You have a very keen mind."

"Err… thank you?" she tried. It chuckled. "It's very strange hearing a hat laugh."

"And yet you take it in your stride. Where should I put you?"

"Slytherin," she replied without thinking. The hat twitched, thinking hard.

"Ah, I see it. I see it all. You are cold and calculating, cunning in your ways and ruthless in your determination to get where you want. When emotions stir you, you fight hard to push them out, and yet I can feel something else within you. You, Hermione Granger, are not as heartless as you might wish to think."

"You don't do this often, do you?"

"And you are Muggleborn. Yet you have already gained this prejudice of blood status. I'm afraid you seem to hate the very people just like you. This would cause problems if you were to go in your preferred House. However I can see that no other place would be quite so fitting."

To the entire school, it shouted "SLYTHERIN", and Draco Malfoy relaxed. Quickly, before it could be taken off her head, the Hat whispered to her.

"Don't forget my words."

She took the sudden rush of air to the crown of her head as a cue to leave. The table at the opposite end of the Hall to the Gryffindor's cheered, and she walked over to join them. She had noticed the greasy haired teacher look away when she was Sorted, but not before she caught the look of the greasy haired Professor at the table. On his face was a mixture of acceptance, exasperation, amusement and curiosity, an odd look for the man, especially since the headmaster was talking to him. Evidently, what he was saying was very interesting.

Hermione found a place near to Draco's 'friends', whom she hadn't even noticed being sorted. They glanced at her without interest, then looked back at their leader with their piggish eyes. She did too, but kept a look out for any other interesting people. Just after her, Daphne Greengrass had also found a place in Slytherin, which was good in her mind, especially after she realised that Daphne was the girl who had been talking with Draco as they walked into Hogwarts.

A sense of unease suddenly gripped her, and she turned fully towards the staff table. The professor she'd noticed was staring at her again, this time looking more irritated than anything. Her curiosity was roused.

"Scuse me," she whispered to one of the older Slytherins, "Who's that professor sitting there?" She pointed to him.

"Him? He's Professor Snape. Head of our House," the bored sounding girl replied. "Potions teacher as well."

Just as she nodded her thanks, she heard the cry of 'Slytherin' once again, and looked up. Draco Malfoy was making his way to the table, an obvious smirk on his pointed face.

Her breath caught, until she saw him smile at her, then she relaxed. He took a seat opposite her, watching the proceedings with some interest, especially when Harry Potter stepped up for his Sorting. It was no surprise Draco was interested, she had seen Harry rebuff his efforts to be friends earlier on. She shook her head in exasperation. Was that really the Boy Who Lived? How did he expect to integrate himself into this world as she was planning to do if he pissed off one of the most influential boys in the school?

As she came out of her own head, she realised that Harry had been sitting on the stool for a while. She thought she'd taken a long time, but the conversation had been rather rushed. He was definitely talking with the Hat. After a long and intense wait, the Hat declared him to belong to Gryffindor. She felt a little disappointed. He may have few brains as far as she was concerned, but it might still have been nice to have the fame in Slytherin house.

She shook herself again, realising that a short man was now taking away the stool. The Sorting was finished.

The Headmaster, Dumbledore, stood up, and spoke briefly, concluding his welcoming speech with some odd words.

"Nitwit, oddment, blubber, tweak!" he declared, waving his arms in a pathetic attempt at grandeur. It wasn't very impressive. What _was_ impressive was the food which magically appeared on the table in front of her with a small 'pop'.

Hermione was used to eating well, but she'd never had such a choice before. She glanced around at the other tables, and saw all had similar meals on them. The older students were obviously used to this sort of feast; they scarcely looked at what they were pulling off the large silver platters. She reached out to grab a chicken leg, but knocked hands with Draco who was reaching for the same thing. They locked eyes with each other, and she was pleased to see that the faintest trace of blood was colouring his cheeks.

She opted for a sandwich instead, nibbling at it delicately to avoid annoying the feeling of apprehension which was nestling in her stomach. Something was bothering her, something that she'd forgotten all about…

"Miss Granger?" enquired a cool voice behind her, and she caught the look in Draco's eyes. Turning round, she stared straight at the chest of Professor Snape, and tilted her head to see him better. He was definitely annoyed by something.

"Have you finished eating?"

She glanced at the half-finished cheese sandwich on her plate without feeling hungry, resigning herself to the fact that she'd just have to face the nagging pains in the morning.

"Yes, thank you, Professor." She stared into his eyes, trying to catch a glimpse of what he wanted, yet already knowing that he was a hard person to read. Looking into those black globes was like staring into the ocean; impossible to know what was going on below the surface, and probably not a good idea to go looking.

"I'd like you to come to my office, if you will." Hermione wasn't fooled. It wasn't her choice whether or not she went. So she picked up the robe laid on her seat (the Great Hall was very warm) and trailed after him, ignoring the uneasy glances the rest of the school was giving her.

As soon as they left the Great Hall, Snape turned around to face her, clearly irritated. It wasn't in his eyes; it was the way his lip curled on one side of his face. But he was somewhat amused as well.

"My, my, Miss Granger, you really have got yourself into trouble. And before you even sit down in the Hall!"

Hermione kept her expression smooth, yet she couldn't help feeling that he knew what she was thinking.

"I'm sorry, Professor, but I don't understand. What have I done?"

He smiled. She waited.

"My office."

And he strode off, leaving her to jog after him with a sinking heart, two sets of footsteps echoing on the cold stone. Eventually, after walking down to the dungeon level (she presumed), and nearly falling into a dusty mirror, the two of them walked into a dingy room full of cobwebs.

A dozen bottles sat primly on a low lying shelf, an eyeball peering out from one of them. Hermione felt herself strangely drawn to it, compelled to step forwards and touch the thin cylinder of glass separating her finger from the murky liquid inside…

"Miss Granger! I ask that while you are in my office, you touch nothing. This is for your own good as much as my privacy. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Professor," she muttered, and blushed furious pink.

"And when you speak to me, it may be better to call me 'sir'."

"Yes, Pro… sir."

Snape said nothing, but walked behind a pristine desk and pulled out a copy of 'The Times'. She couldn't see the front page properly, and then when he turned it so that she _could_ see, she found herself looking at… well, herself.

**Girl goes missing in Hampshire**

She read this title with unease, then scanned the full article. It seemed that the papers thought she – 'Hermione Jean Granger, eleven years old' – had run away from home after being bullied at school. There were quotes from both her parents, and even one of her classmates claiming to be one of her best friends. In fact, half the class seemed suddenly to be close to her. The only ones who didn't make such a claim were the people who had gone far away to go to their high school.

Her face went white. She had rather presumptuously thought that the note she left her parents would have been enough. Evidently they didn't believe her.

"Now, Miss Granger, can you please explain _why _we have had a dozen Ministry officials chasing after your parents, fellow pupils and the newspaper journalists, trying to put things right? I have been aware of this situation for a number of _weeks_, and yet I was only allowed to discuss these things with you once I became your head of house. _"Fortunately,_" he continued forcefully, when Hermione opened her mouth to speak, "Fortunately for you, none of the students will be aware of this situation, as would otherwise be a problem for you, considering your… position."

She let out her breath, feeling that dizzying sense of relief. For a moment, she was panicking, thinking that Draco was just mocking her, as were all the people she'd talked to. But if they hadn't heard the news story…

"I… I don't…"

"You may wish to save yourself the trouble of explaining, Miss Granger. I'm afraid I will have to dock 10 points from Slytherin, and you will be serving detention with me for the next month or so. Tell your fellow… students, that your parents have requested you have extra tutoring with me in Potions. That will be easiest."

Hermione looked at him, a little shocked. Sure, she'd done something stupid and dangerous, but he had no right to punish her for something she'd done before school had even begun! It was outrageous! A flash of something green caused her to turn her head as she spoke.

"But I really don't think that's fair! I mean, I wasn't even in this _school_ when I did that! I didn't know the rules! So I think you're being really unfair."

Professor Snape sat slowly down in his chair, mouth twisting; not an unpleasant look for him. In comparison to normal, anyway.

"That is indeed right, Miss Granger. However, complaining about something like a child, and failing to address me correctly… Seven o'clock. Down here. My, my, children should know better than to fall for my traps, you more than most. The dorms are to your right. Say 'draco dormiens' to the large mirror. Girls dorms on the left."

She stared at him, mouth wide open. She thought _she_ was being clever, but… She tried glancing around at the office once more, at the smooth stone walls, and the green glow (what was that?), but he waved his hand at her.

"Go!" he exclaimed, and she ran. Ran past numerous cobwebs, frayed and empty. Ran past low hanging lights; the same ones which were in Snape's office, which couldn't possibly be created by anything other than magic. And finally, ran into a small alcove covered in mirrors.

"Draco dormiens!" she whispered forcefully, as she watched a piece of glass melt into nothing more than water.

**So… Sorry it's taken so long to update! School, hectic; plot-bunnies, sleeping; etc.**

**If even one person reads this, I'll try to update faster (by faster, I mean in less than 5 months!) But yeah, J K Rowling was willing to write for one person, so why shouldn't I?**

**If anybody is planning on being so kind as to review, some constructive criticism would be really helpful! Thanks for reading!**


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